


The Long Road

by RubyRogue



Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: F/F, F/M, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 06:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12977940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyRogue/pseuds/RubyRogue
Summary: The road ahead of her stretched endlessly. But she had persisted.And so had he.All for One isn't what he appears.And All Might finds himself in a struggle thousands of years old and racing towards a bloody end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to experiment with a story idea and that's how this fiction came about. I recognize crossovers aren't everyone's cup of tea, but I sincerely hope my readers might enjoy it. Thank you for your time and your support!
> 
> Trigger warnings: I will be discussing self-harm and suicidal ideation in this story. If you struggle with these things, I encourage you to please hit the back button and not read this story. If you are struggling with self-harm or suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. They are available 24/7 to help you.

The Long Road

She pulled her hair over her shoulder to continue the braid. The rhythm was familiar to her fingers: pulling hair from the edges of a part and layering it across a middle part, gathering the strand to the far side of another chunk, and repeating. She tied the braid off at the end and threw the chunk of plaited hair back. She stared at a picture, yellowed with age and beginning to fall apart at the edges, and refused to think too hard about the beautiful little girl with thick black hair and eyes like onyx pools. Behind her, Musutafu was just beginning to stir. She stared out through the window of her apartment and into the streets.

Individuals days had long since lost meaning for her. What was one more day, one more year, one more decade...time was unimportant. She had cultivated patience to hold the madness at bay. How many years had it been since Sarada...She shook her head, as if she could physically jar the thoughts loose before they had time to cement themselves into her mind. She had done her mourning, cried her tears. And she had replaced sorrow with rage and cold tolerance. 

She donned a black skirt, a red blouse, and a set of low heels. Across the crimson of her shirt fell a necklace with a broken shard of green crystal surrounded by silver beads. It was useless now, but it reminded her of her master, of everything she had lost and ever memory she had to redeem. 

She was coming for him. 

And she wouldn't be stopped. 

She slit her wrist with a dagger and closed the wound just enough to prevent the bleeding. 

Time had no meaning. So she gave it meaning on her body. 

* * *

Nedzu stood before the class, neatening a sheaf of paper, and motioning at the door as it opened. 

"It is my great pleasure to introduce a guest instructional coach. Her name is Haruno Sakura and she'll be with us through the term. I expect you all to treat her with respect." 

She sat her purse down and put on her best smile and reminded herself that Tsunade had taught her being a ninja was just as much about lying convincingly as it was learning ninjutsu. 

"Hello, then." 

"And just what the hell are you here to teach us?" Bakugou sneered. 

Nedzu opened his mouth to scold the student, but Sakura beat him to it. She shrugged off her jacket, threw it across her chair, and replied, "I'm here to teach you the basics of fighting, avoiding injury, and tactical supports."

"To that end," She continued, "I'd like all of you to go change into your track suits. We'll be practicing outside today." 

As the students shuffled out of the room, she thanked Nedzu and then quietly waited for him to disappear down the hall. She changed in her own office and tried not to think about how close it was to her tiny cubicle in the Konoha hospital. She stripped off her shirt and didn't linger on the hundreds of scars that crossed her body in pearly lines and jagged pink edges. She pulled a long-sleeved shirt over her torso and stepped into a pair of sweat pants. She stared into the mirror on her desk and smeared another layer of makeup over the purple mark on her forehead. 

Satisfied that it was well hidden, she stepped out of her office and into the hallway. 

"Hello, there!" 

She spun on the voice and shoved back the instant hostility she felt. She extended her hand as a matter of courtesy. 

"I'm Yagi Toshinori. I teach Foundational Studies here." 

"A pleasure. I'm Sakura. I'll be teaching the Tactical Studies course for the semester." 

"I don't believe I've seen you in any of the agencies." 

"I'm new to the area. Hired on contingency." 

"It would be my honor to pair with you for a class sometime." 

She nodded noncommittally and turned around. She didn't tell him she had been watching him for sometime. He was the way...her way to the end. 

* * *

 They finished running the track and lined up for their hand to hand session. She couldn't help the flash of contempt she felt for them...the pathetic way they traded blow after blow without ever learning from it. They reminded her disgustingly of herself. She had been so weak. She flexed her fist and felt the scab on her wrist strain to hold the sides of the ripped flesh together. 

_Patience. Patience. You're so close now._

She called Yaoyorozu to the front of the class and demonstrated a better way to catch a punch. She reached out to touch the girl and she was _drowning_. 

Flashes of Sarada, flashes of teaching her, of holding her wrist to show her the best way to defend herself, crashed over her. She couldn't keep her head above water. She was floundering. She felt the cracks in her mask widening. She balled her fist hard. Felt the skin split. Hot, grounding blood flowed down between the sleeve and her skin and pooled warmly in her fist. She took a breath. 

"That's much better. Just like that." She let go of Yaoyorozu. 

She clenched her fist hard, letting the white edges of her fingernails bite deep half-moons into her palm. Pain pulled her back into her body. She took another breath. She slid her bloody hand into a pocket before the crimson trails could betray her. She excused herself to the bathroom while they took a break. 

The bathroom door slamming behind her did nothing to break the haze. The water splashed so frantically across her face that her arms burned with the effort did nothing to clear away the miasma. 

_Pain._

Kakashi's voice echoing from the back of her memory, memories that were fading and getting more gray with every passing day and slipping faster and faster away from her, was a punch in the gut. 

_She was covered in blood. She didn't know if it was hers or an ally's or an enemy's. She was covered in a slick crimson skin so thick that she was choking on the iron stench. Her hands were shaking so hard that she couldn't form the healing ball of chakra. Her breath was rapid and shallow, hitching in her chest and threatening to pull her under with the sensation that she couldn't breathe._

_He had leaned downand told her, "Pain is your friend. Use it."_

_She didn't know what he meant until that night when she drew the edge of a dagger across her skin and felt the pain._

_She watched the blood run across the tile of her floor and felt like she could breath._

She formed the edge of chakra in her hand and raked the invisible blade hard across her thigh. The pain was deliciously cold and swept away the fear, the uncertainty, the memories that had been bubbling underneath the surface all day long. She let herself bleed for a moment before she sealed the wound. 

"I'm coming for you," She told herself, "I'm coming for you and I'm going to end this." 

She dismissed her class, packed up her bag, and returned to the tiny apartment. She sat down in front of the TV with a glass after glass of sake and watched a video she had stolen from a local station earlier in the year and copied. She watched All for One rip a hole into All Might's stomach and watched his chest pulse through his shattered ribcage. She watched his lungs inflate helplessly, pushed up against shards of bone. And then she pause the video, her bloody fingertips trailing over the images as she glared hard at the figure All for One cut on the screen. 

 "I'm coming for you, Orochimaru." 

TBC

 

 

 


	2. Shatter, Pt. I

She filled her bathtub and climbed into it and delighted in the way the hot water stung the barely scabbed wounds on her wrists and thighs. She downed another glass of sake and felt a shudder race up her spine in response to the burn in her throat. Her forehead stung and she resisted the urge to slam her fist into the smarting mark. It couldn't be helped, she reminded herself. Not if she wanted her revenge. 

What was one more day? 

It was only a matter of time, she told herself, watching diffuse lines of blood float up from the softening scabs. 

UA was a means to an end. He would come sooner or later to finish what he started with All Might. And she would be there to finish her fight with him. The image of Sasuke's broken body, huddled around the bloody mass of flesh that used to be her daughter, slammed into her without warning. She sank into the water, let it flood over her face and thought about just breathing it in...but it never ended. Never. 

She had tried cutting her throat before. And she woke up the next morning in a clotted pool of her own blood and the mark on her forehead burning with use. The decades of funneling chakra into had been too effective...She couldn't tell if it was some fucked up version of subconscious self-preservation that awoke it every time or if Tsunade had inadvertently cursed with a mark that would see her through eternity. She wanted to die, but she wanted her revenge more. 

The years of solitude had made her understand her husband's thirst for power so much better. 

She pushed her face through the mirror surface of the water and forced her chest to rise and resented the air that flowed so easily into her lungs. 

She dozed in a sake-induced haze until the water was so cold that it chilled even her. She climbed out, dragged herself to bed, and fell into the sheets. 

The blaring of the alarm awoke her several hours later and she rose. 

"Put on the mask. Just like Kakashi taught you," She sighed, pushing her messy hair away from her face and collecting it into a ponytail. 

* * *

 Sakura looked up at the board and realized she didn't remember what she had been talking about. She followed the lines of notes she had written and stumbled over an explanation of avoiding a blow. She couldn't remember leaving her apartment, the train ride to work, or what she had been teaching. She looked up at the room of students and saw more than one concerned face. She opened her mouth to reassure them, to mollify them so they didn't ask questions. 

"My apologies," She told them, "I lost my train of thought."

When not a single one replied, she glanced at the clock and told them, "You can go to lunch early today. We'll resume tomorrow." 

Izuku packed up his items, but he didn't go to lunch. He parted ways with his classmates and quietly crept up the stairs to All Might's office. He knocked lightly and his mentor invited him. 

"Hey...I think maybe the new teacher isn't feeling good..." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"She's just...really distracted. She was shaking today, too." 

"I'm sure she'll be okay," Toshinori ruffled his heir's hair affectionately, "But I'll check on her, alright?" 

"Thanks, All Might." 

He waited for his student to depart before he shrugged on his jacket and made his way down into the common area. The last step he slipped slightly but when he lifted his foot he didn't find a spilled beverage or slick of food, but a dribble of blood. Once you worked as a hero, there was no mistaking it. His eyes found and followed a trail of crimson droplets on the floor. His chest clenched unpleasantly. The uneven red line led him down a hallway and to a bathroom just as a woman with pink hair was leaving it. 

"Sakura-sensei...are you well?" He asked. 

She smiled at him and he saw the lie in it. 

"Of course, Toshinori-san. Why do you ask?" 

Toshinori's eyes narrowed. Sakura sensed his apprehension and stepped forward. He caught her by the wrist as she tried to shove past him. 

"You're bleeding." 

She reflexively pressed a fingernail ever so gently into the side of his chest that she knew sloped in where his ribs had shattered. She felt him tense, felt the shudder of pain radiate up his body and through hers by extension. 

"I would mind your own business, Toshinori-san." 

She drew away. He let her. As she rounded the corner, he dropped his gaze to the bloody slick on his fingertips. 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Pillow Talk and Playing Both Sides

 "I appreciate a woman who can hold her liquor." 

Sakura's gaze slid to the side as a man with grey hair and bad teeth sidled up to her. He motioned to the bartender for two more drinks. Sakura said nothing to him as he took a drag off his cigarette and smirked at her. 

"What's a pretty lady like you doing in a shit hole like this?" 

"Just looking for a good time," She replied, lifting her drink with a smile. 

She couldn't bank on just UA. She needed another route to One for All. She needed another way. And a ninja knew how to play both sides. 

She was sure Kakashi was rolling over in his grave. It didn't matter to her, though. She knew she was trash. She knew she was a traitor to her own cause. She knew he would be so disappointed in her if he could see her. That's what he taught, her though: that an enemy couldn't use something she owned bravely and openly to the world. 

She leaned into the man, ignoring the gap in his teeth and his arrogant smirk. She looked up at him adoringly through the smoke. 

"Maybe I was wrong about you," He told her, "I thought you could hold your liquor." 

Sakura lifted a shot glass, slid her tongue over the rim of it, and threw it back. 

"But can you keep up?" 

He laughed, ordered another drink, and offered it to her. She drank until even she was stumbling and then she let him take her into the back of the bar and fuck her against the wall. It was an act devoid of pleasure and fueled with rage and hatred that he mistook for drunken passion. And when he was done she slipped the number of an unregistered cellphone into his pocket and told him to find her when he was lonely. He smirked and she felt his erection press against her thigh; a silent promise that she had snared him. 

 Sakura went home, vomited into the sink, and slept propped between the toilet and the bathtub. The morning sunshine breaking through her windows was what woke her. Her head pounded. She could have fixed it, but she didn't. Pain kept her grounded to the world. It reminded her. 

She struggled to her feet, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. 

Another day. 

* * *

She took a breath before she entered her class and smiled brightly, with fake cheer, at the students. 

"Today I'd like to personally assess your individual skills."

Bakugou snorted. She was careful to keep the scorn off her face when she told him he would be first. He sneered at her, "Let's do it then. I'll kick your ass." 

Sakura resisted the urge to snip back and told them to dress down and get ready to meet her at the track.

Ten minutes later, standing in the sun with a jacket pulled over her battered arms, she invited Bakugou to test her abilities. He charged her predictably from the front and she ducked beneath his assault. She somersaulted below him, came up, and slammed the heel of her foot hard into his back. Bakugou went flying, collided face first with the dirt, and cursed. 

"You'll have to do better than that." 

Bakugou smirked and asked, "And what are the rules on using Quirks?" 

Sakura saw his clenched fist spark and told him, "You're welcome to try anything you think will work." 

A blast of flame extended from his palm and Sakura danced around it, spun, caught his elbow, and slammed her palm inward against the joint. It buckled with the blow and he fell to the side. Sakura pinned him with a knee to his back, one arm pressed beneath him and the other stretched out and held prone with her hands. 

"You're predictable, violent, clunky with your movement and driven by your emotions. You're going to get yourself or someone else killed the first time you try that with someone intent on harming you." 

"You bitch..." He struggled

"This is your own failure entirely," She tightened her grip. 

"I'll kill you!" Bakugou hissed. 

"You wouldn't be the first, you won't be the last." 

"P-please...let him go..." 

Sakura's head snapped up to Midoriya as he pushed his way through his classmates. 

"You're hurting him," He told her. 

Sakura's eyes slid to the bruises forming where her palms were pressed against the boy. 

"Then come and get him." 

"I will if you don't let him go." 

Sakura met Izuku's eyes and he stared back hard. Then he charged her, fist held high and surging with power. Sakura fell backwards to avoid the blow, brought her legs up, caught his arm between them, and twisted hard. Midoriya went flying to the side and failed to get his legs beneath him. He crashed hard, felt his shoulder crack, and fought to find his feet again. 

"Is this the best your class has to offer?" Sakura asked. 

"Is that an invitation?" Yaoyorozu replied. 

"It's a demand. Show me what you're capable of." 

"Fine, then!" Uraraka shouted. 

Yaoyorozu extended her palm, a bo staff shooting from it. Sakura easily danced over it. She grabbed it with her left hand, shoved hard, and sent Yaoyorozu stumbling into Tsuyu just as she tried to advance. Uraraka charged forward, her hand extended, and Sakura easily caught her wrist, flipped her up, and slammed her down against her back hard enough to drive the breath from her chest. Kaminari was close behind but she effortlessly kicked him away before he had a chance to build up his electricity. Midoriya yelled, alerting her to his presence. Bakugou was leaping up beside her, his fist white hot with an explosion waiting to be discharged. Sakura flipped herself onto her hands, extended her feet, and caught both of them squarely in the chest and sent them flying. 

"Enough." 

Sakura planted her legs, fell into a kneel, and examined the dark-haired man before her. 

"Aizawa-sensei. How kind of you to join us." 

"I believe you made your point to the students." 

"I would agree." 

"You're all dismissed." 

Sakura didn't argue with him. Aizawa kept her gaze held firmly in his own while the students cleared the field. It wasn't until they were all gone that he sighed and told her, "I don't mind hard lessons, but that was too far. Don't do it again." 

"Or what?" 

Aizawa shot her a look that almost chilled her. Sakura bit her tongue and her derisive response back. She waited for him to leave before she walked back to her room and rummaged through her bag. She pulled out a cellphone, glanced at an alert, and opened it to find a crass text. She responded in kind. If nothing else, technology had made playing a dangerous double game more convenient. Giran, she was sure, would firmly be hers within a few days. And by extension, so would the League. 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Late Nights

"Are you okay, Young Midoriya?" 

Izuku nodded, but Toshinori didn't entirely believe him. 

"Did she hurt you?" 

"No. Not really. I just..." Izuku shook his head. 

"What is it, my boy?" 

"Do you ever just... _feel_ it? When someone needs help, I mean. Can you feel something like that?" 

"Of course." 

"I think Haruno-sensei needs help. I really do. But I don't know what to do...I don't know how to help." 

Toshinori knelt and put his hands reassuringly on Izuku's shoulders, "It's okay, my boy. I'm here. And I'll help her if I can." 

Izuku hugged the man hard. 

* * *

 "What's your favorite game?" Sakura asked, throwing back another glass of sake and hoping she didn't throw it up when his hands started to creep lower on her back. 

"I like games of secrets." 

"Secrets?" She had a lifetime's. 

"Tell me something dirty, babe." 

She thought about all the blood on her hands. She had murdered so many people. She could have told him about the time she ripped a Sound nin's spine from their body and watched them twitch helplessly as death claimed them. She could have told them about the time she had tried to bed her own sensei, just to prove she could. She could have told him how their relationship never really recovered, even though Kakashi tried desperately to patch it. She could have told them about how she continued fucking him long after Sasuke and Sarada died. How he really only gave into her to keep her close so that she didn't overdose or cut her own throat. She could have told him how she watched Naruto, everything he ever was and ever could have been, burned by the demon fox. She could have told him how the years slid by her, how she lost everyone she got close to...how she stopped trying. 

"I'm horny as fuck right now," She lied. 

"Mmm..." Giran kissed her and it took everything she had in her not to gag. 

"Give me another one." 

Sakura fondled him, "I want you." 

"That's not a secret, baby." 

Sakura grabbed him by the hair, forced his mouth against hers, and led him to the back of the bar. She reached for his belt but he stopped her. 

"One more. Just one more secret." 

Sakura felt the bile gathering in her throat, "I can't stand All Might. I can't stand what he is...what he stands for." 

It wasn't a lie. At least...she didn't think it was when she thought of Naruto and what his quest for peace did to him and everyone and everything. He was the one that washed it all away in blood and bodies and broken bones and screaming and he did it with the best, the _purest_ , the most incredible intentions. 

Giran squeezed her breast. Sakura reached again for his pants. 

* * *

 She stumbled into her apartment, drunk on horror instead of sake for once. And she fell in front of the tub and scrubbed herself with her fingernails and with water hot enough to blister her skin. And she didn't stop until she couldn't tell what was water and what was blood and what was tears. She screamed into her arms, begging for Tsunade, for Kakashi, for Sasuke or Sarada...for anyone. But no one ever came. 

Because they were dead, she told herself. She screamed it in her head, sobbed it aloud, and hoped that Sasuke could forgive her for what she had done...what she would do again. 

TBC

 

 


	5. Falling

She stared at her blistered arms but try as she might, she couldn't convince her chakra to sooth them. Her palms were bleeding with deep chakra burns from repeated, failed attempts and disastrously uncontrolled bursts of energy. Her fingernails were peeling away from the nail beds. Blood ran from her arms, down her hands, to pool at her feet. She seared the wounds closed, ignoring the agony it brought, and put on a brave face. 

Tsunade had taught her to laugh at life threatening injuries. 

_Tsunade pierced her chest with the tip of a kunai and the pain was so obliterating that Sakura vomited. She almost didn't hear Tsunade's command over the thunder of her agony and the harsh beat of her heart against her eardrums: "It's not a fatal wound. Just a debilitating one. Don't let Kakashi know. You may seal it. You may not heal it. You may not avoid your daily responsibilities. Don't let him know. It's a skill that will serve you well in enemy territory. A medical nin must never show weakness."_

_So she did...she burned it closed, deadened the nerves, and didn't so much as whimper when Kakashi thumped her lovingly with a journal in an attempt to make a playful point. She threw up when he wasn't looking, dulled her fever with ice and cold water, and changed the bandages when she felt the blood beginning to seep through the gauze._

_And her teacher was right...her ability to hide her injuries and her pain did serve her well._

And it hadn't stopped serving her, Sakura thought as she looked in the mirror. She was pale, but the sweat was dissipating. She constructed a story in her head. A late night, grading papers, perhaps...yes...that was plausible. That was why she was so pale, she was just tired. She had just been up too late. Too much coffee, too little food. She rehearsed it a few times in her head, how she would smile and politely wave off a concerned professor or prying student. How she would look away with embarrassment, as though she cared what they thought. The way she would play with her hair to keep anyone from staring at any one spot for too long. How she would keep busy, her hands on her hips, behind her back, her fingers working over a keyboard. 

She pulled on a long sleeved sweater to hide the wetness already pooling through the sleeves of her blouse. She left her hair down, a convenient way to draw the eyes away from any problem spots. 

She stared at the window of her train and watched with dread as UA's imposing buildings gleamed silver in the rising sun. She hated the students...each and everyone reminded her of a lost friend, a lost student, a lost comrade...each face that smiled at her was the painful flash of a reminder about a child she had watched fall to battle or poison or an injury she couldn't close fast enough. She hated the teachers and how warmly they tried to welcome her and how hard they tried to make friends with her. She couldn't get close. Not again...Not again...Not again...

She shuddered at the bite of her nails against her arm and realized she had been squeezing herself so hard that one nail finally slipped off the bed. She pressed the bleeding finger against her jacket cuff to staunch the trickle of crimson. It had crusted over by the time she walked up the stairs to her classroom. Her students filed in just a few moments short of the bell and she started lecturing them on the merits of reading an enemy's body language before engaging them. 

"Every person has a dominant arm and leg. It's worth your time to consider which side they favor before you attack. A well timed assault against their weaker side can displace them, prevent a retaliatory blow, or give an ally an opening to finish the fight." 

"How can we tell, at a glance, which those are?" Yaoyorozu asked. 

"Practice. Observe your classmates in training and take notes about what you see. Like any skill, the more you use it, the more refined it will become." 

"And what should we be looking for?" 

She turned to the board and considered drawing a diagram before she remembered that she was close to losing another fingernail. Instead, she called Uraraka to the front of the room and motioned at her with her chin. 

"You can tell she's right handed because she leans forward on her right side. Her right foot is always just a hair farther out than her left foot. That indicates confidence in that side and a desire to guard her weaker left side." 

"But you don't show anything like that..." Izuku pointed out, holding up a notepad. "You don't ever favor one side. I've noticed that. You don't ever move without moving your other side to align with it. You don't favor your right hand or your left hand. You write with both all the time." 

Sakura's eyes narrowed. The walls felt like they were closing in with an implied threat. 

"Call it practice," She shrugged and the motion ripped a piece of skin from her forearm. Nausea rose in her belly and she beat it back with sheer force of will.

"Now, then, your homework for the week is to study each other. I want each of you to turn in a piece of paper detailing at least three of your classmates and what side you think they favor for their arm and their leg and what observations you've made about their movements." 

She continued lecturing until the bell and dismissed them. Her vision was starting to jumble at the edges, she realized as Kaminari walked through the door. The clatter of their footsteps was so muffled it was like trying to listen to them through cotton. Her legs were watery. Her throat burned with each breath. She picked up her bag and walked out of the room. The floor rolled away from her with each step, pitching and threatening to throw her to the ground. She was so tired. 

* * *

 Toshinori entered the class expecting to find his fellow teacher in the middle of grading or preparing a lesson. Instead, he found a dark, empty classroom. He had already been the teacher's lounge, the combat staging area, and her office. There was no sign of her.  He walked around her desk to close the blinds as a matter of courtesy. When he turned back, he found his eye drawn by a silvery oblong on her desk. He picked it up to inspect it. 

It was a fingernail. 

He turned it over in his hand. The piece was whole, the underside bloodied with bits of tissue still clinging to it. He carefully wrapped it in a piece of linen in his pocket and tucked it away. 

A sickly feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. 

TBC

 


	6. A Dark Dealing

She had just been starting to doze off when her phone rang. She answered it without meaning to and felt a shiver of disgust slide down her spine when Giran's voice floated over the phone. 

"I'm lonely, baby. Come keep this old man some company tonight?" 

"Of course." 

She hung up, rose and styled her hair as quickly as she could. She pulled on a long-sleeved black dress to hide her arms and slid into a ridiculous set of heels. Tsunade had once told her she could make up for a small chest by accentuating her ass. The tidbit of advice had served her well on numerous infiltration and seduction missions. She hoped it would be enough to draw his eye away from her arms and hands. Just in case it wasn't, she donned her reddest shade of lipstick. The hole between her legs wasn't the only one she could use. She didn't bother locking the door behind her. Anyone foolish enough to wait in the darkness for her to return was in for a nasty surprise. 

Sakura met him at a sleazy bar in the downtown area. The whole place reeked of sex and drugs and cheap alcohol and the acridness of sweat that had been left sitting for too long. 

Giran was waiting for her at the bar, several shots of liquor already poured and laid out for her. She accepted the first one and was grateful for the way the smoky yellow lighting hid the battered bloodiness of her hands. 

"I have a friend I'd like you to meet soon." 

"Is that right?" She smiled playfully and tried to imagine it was Sasuke she was looking at. 

"Before that, though, there's a secret I'm still waiting for you to tell me." 

She glanced up at him over the rim of another shot glass, her eyes narrowed seductively. She smirked at him, groped him playfully, and asked, "What is that?" 

"What's your Quirk, honey?" 

She licked her lips and didn't miss the way his pants bulged with a sudden surge of arousal. 

"The ability," She told him, "to create illusions." 

It wasn't a lie. Genjutsu was a particular skill of hers. And she painted him a vivid fantasy of sitting topless beside him, her sex wet and hot, her tongue working over a piece of candy. She illustrated all the things she could do to him, all the ways she could compromise him so delightfully. 

"Nicely done. But...can you do it better? Darker?" 

"Anything you want." 

"Show me some fear. I like to get the blood pumping. Reminds me I'm alive." 

Sakura made sure to deliver with eyes that shot from the walls, and founts of blood that poured from the rafters, and screaming pieces of body parts and faces sheared from skulls and brains spattered on counters. And when he smirked instead of leaning over to vomit or cry, she felt her chest clench coldly. 

"Perfect, babe.  _You're_ perfect." 

"Perfect for what?" 

"For fucking. And so much more. But we'll see to that later." 

It wasn't hard for her to convince him to let her take him with her mouth. She swallowed automatically, unfeelingly, when he did come and fell back against a dirty bathroom counter as his legs shook. Tsunade had taught her that, too, she reminded herself. She would remember to scrub herself with chakra later to prevent disease.

"What about your friend," She asked, "Should I show him a good time, too?" 

"Not like that, baby. You'll see what he wants. Soon." 

She drank with him until the sun was rising and raced back to her tiny apartment to scrub the stench off and change into acceptable clothing. She twisted her hair into a bun, hoping to hide how oily it was, and soaked it with cheap perfume to cover the reek of bars and smoke and sex and shame. She barely caught her train. The sunlight poured mercilessly through the windows of the cabins and chased away what little hope of sleep she had retained. Her head pounded unhelpfully. Sweat gathered icily on the back of her neck. Her legs wobbled as she walked up the stairs. 

Sakura didn't remember starting her lecture, putting up the notes for it, or finishing it. She didn't remember answering questions or passing out assignments she had graded. She sat down to take notes in a smaller book. She kept careful track of student schedules and Quirks, mannerisms, and obvious fears. She rose when the door opened, discretely shuffling the notepad underneath her purse and greeting Present Mic. Thankfully, the irritating man just wanted to idly chit-chat and she was able to politely shuffle him back out the door under the guise of needing to prepare for exam season before her patience broke. 

Sakura gathered her items shortly after and made a break for the door. Her foot dragged inadvertently with exhaustion as she crossed the second flight of stairs and the toe of her shoe caught on a step. She fell without enough warning to catch herself and was already braced for a broken arm at the end of a moderate tumble when a hand slipped from a doorway and closed on her shoulder. 

"Are you alright?" 

Sakura blinked to clear her eyes and wasn't sure how to react when she realized it was Toshinori that had snatched her off the stairs. 

 "Yes. I think so." 

Toshinori pulled her to her feet and it wasn't lost on her that his skeletal body still held strength. 

"You're bleeding." 

Sakura wanted to pull away from his touch. She wanted it to burn. She wanted him to demand something of her. And when he didn't, she realized it had been a _very_ long time since someone had touched her without wanting something from her. 

"I must have scraped myself when I tripped." 

"Like a rug burn, I suppose." 

He gripped her hands gently and Sakura felt the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. 

"Let's get those bandaged." 

 She couldn't bring herself to pull away from him. He led her across the hall and into his office and sat her down on the couch. He laid her hands out on her knees, burned backs facing up, and washed his hands before he pulled on a pair of gloves. He smeared a cold cream across them, carefully examining her face to see if she flinched or winced. He pulled a pair of latex gloves over her hands when he was done--to keep the cream on, he told her--and wrapped them in gauze. 

"That was quite the fall. And you're certain you didn't hit your head?" 

She shook her head in response. "I'm quite alright." 

"You're sure?" 

She looked up at him and realized immediately it was a mistake. He looked so much like Naruto when her vision blurred. He felt so much like Kakashi when she closed her eyes and let him hold her hands. 

"I should be going," She told him, standing up faster than she meant to and walking more quickly than she wanted to.

Toshinori didn't try to stop her. It wasn't until her footsteps had faded down the hall that he realized she had spilled a little notepad on the floor in her haste. He picked it up and his eyes danced over the page. He saw a note about Izuku and his discomfort with Bakugou. For some reason, it didn't sit well with him. 

* * *

 Sleep didn't come, not easily anymore. Booze and drugs did little to ease her insomnia. Late night walks just reminded her of how much her world had changed. Konoha was a distant memory. She had survived the last of the Great Ninja wars, she had seen the end of ninja, saw the number of chakra-users grow smaller and smaller every decade until she, and he, were the last ones, she saw empires rise and fall and her entire world change. Still, she persisted; and for reasons she didn't understand. Tsunade had told her the Rebirth Creation hastened the end of a natural lifespan. Then again, Tsunade had given her the gift of Hashirama's cells when they had started work to develop fully functional prosthetics for Naruto and Sasuke following the loss of their arms. Perhaps all the time she spent in a lab, inhaling them, absorbing them into microscopic cuts on her her hands and minute entry points in her eyes, had damned her to an eternal existence. She could suffer, she thought bitterly as the cold air of the night pouring in through her open window whipped across her burned arms, but not die. 

She showered despite the pain the hot water inflicted, and fell across her bed when she was done. Sakura reached for the notepad in her purse and her fingertips failed to find the plastic cover. She wrenched her purse off the floor and dumped it across the bed and restrained her anger when she didn't find it. She vaguely remembered putting it in a drawer. She decided she would look in the morning. It was a stupid thing to lose, she admonished herself. Tsunade would be disappointed...

Sakura glanced at her arms and reminded herself she would have disappointed her mentor in a number of ways. 

Her phone buzzed against her hip. She reached for it and cursed the message that came across her screen. There was no time to wallow in self-pity, she told herself as she rose and dressed hastily. 

Giran picked her up on a nearby corner and she thought about how she had reduced herself to little more than a harem girl. She didn't care. Revenge had a price. She was willing to pay hers. 

"I have a friend. He's interested in a trade, of sorts." 

"Oh?" 

Giran smirked and Sakura felt the ground beneath her give. She was tumbling, scared, confused, lost and suddenly spilled out across a street that she didn't recognize. A puddle of shadow rose from the ground to reveal two gleaming yellow slashes for eyes glittering up from the swirling darkness. Giran appeared from the liquid darkness, stepping through it as casually as a doorway. 

"This is Kurogiri. You might call him an associate of mine." 

"Yes...the new teacher for UA." 

Sakura flinched before she could stop herself. She had imagined it would come to light eventually, but she had always imagined it would be on her terms. 

There was no point in lying. She looked up. "Yes." 

"I feel lied to, baby," Giran smirked. 

She shrugged. 

"Giran believes you could be useful to our cause. I'm here to assess his recommendation personally." 

"And what would you like to know?" 

"It seems odd for a UA teacher to keep Giran's company." 

Giran sneered and Kurogiri ignored him. 

"I find corruption is more efficient the younger they are," Sakura threw her hair over her shoulder. 

All those years working at a mental health clinic for children impacted by the Fourth Ninja War had taught her 3 things: youth were most impacted by trauma, the mind was most malleable before the completion of puberty, and that it was shockingly easy to drive a young mind in the direction she wanted with a gentle touch, a smile, and a hint of compassion. She knew how to twist those skills to suit her in other ways. 

"Corruption? To what end?" 

"Heroes are nothing but a lie."

Flashes of Naruto's hopeless battle to win out against a literal demon, Sasuke's pathetic struggle against his own feelings, Kakashi's fight to raise a better generation of ninja, all the suffering bred by someone too stupid to recognize that their contributions were minuscule and fleeting...the total of too many years watching the same war play out on different fronts in different times had convinced her there was no such thing as a hero. Heroism was just a pretty word for selfishness. The selfishness for peace, the hunger for something unobtainable, the willingness to sacrifice others...all wrapped up in a pretty package with a bow that was easy to sell. 

"The sooner people accept that reality, the better off they'll be," She told them. 

"Then,  _boy_ , do we have an offer for you, babe," Giran told her. 

"And what is that?" 

"Work for us. Help us rip it all down. Help us rebuild it." 

"More specifically, be a spy for us. You're already in the heart of UA. You could be a valuable resource to us. Of course, if you refuse, or should you fail us, I'll be happy to eliminate you myself," Kurogiri said. 

Giran knelt down to look her in the eye and smiled obscenely, "What do you say, baby?" 

The words that rolled off her tongue tasted like vomit and ashes and dust and rot: "I'm in." 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Pieces

Sakura showered to feel the eerie sliminess wash off her body. No amount of scrubbing seemed to truly rid her off the bizarre sensation. Still, she twisted her hair up, covered her arms with sleeves and hid the purple circles under her eyes with makeup and illusions. She managed. She took the train and tried to keep her eyes open and not feel the crippling exhaustion that was settled over her like a cold, wet blanket. She changed into a track suit, invited the children to the field, and started to run them through drills. She wasn't expecting Toshinori to show up to observe them. 

 "I was hoping to see more drills," He told her. 

"I'm happy to oblige," She replied automatically.

She rotated the students, divided them into groups, and invited the first set--Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, and Iida--to the front of the field to team against her. Bakugou predictably charged her with everything he had and flung himself right over her when she ducked. He released a blast from his palm to try and drive himself back towards her. Sakura leaned down far into the left side of her body, kicked up, and rolled over him as he reached for her. She kneed him in the back hard enough to send him flying into the dirt. Iida charged her a few seconds too late and she spun around him, swinging like a door away from its hinges, and he stumbled into Todoroki. The scarred ice user tried his best to correct the situation, but the slick of ice he had laid down with the intention of slipping Sakura up backfired. Iida quite literally spun out on the ice and knocked Todoroki down. Midoriya ran at her, leaping at the last moment and trying to ram his heel into her sternum. Sakura caught his ankle between her wrist and forearm and delicately pushed him to the side. She wasn't prepared for Bakugou to come out of nowhere, latch onto her hair, and rip her to the ground. 

"I've got you now." 

Sakura reached for him. Toshinori saw a flash of light. The embers of One for All suddenly flared to violent life. He knew the feeling of Death lingering close to the edges of a field. He knew the spark of malicious intent. He was running. Sakura was reaching up. Bakugou was sneering. Midoriya was charging into the mixture. Time slowed. The ground exploded. 

Uraraka, more than two hundred feet away from the fray, was thrown entirely from her feet. The earth shattered, sending Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu scrambling to avoid being crushed by the jagged boulders. Tsuyu narrowly managed to snatch Iida from the disaster as it exploded around him. Todoroki, slipping backwards on a flood of ice, managed to avoid the worst of the shock. The dust started to clear. 

All Might--in his full glory--was standing, his fist closed around Sakura's hand, Bakugou and Midoriya clutched in one arm. The ground around them was nothing more than a crater surrounded by fractured plates of ground. The destruction was hard to describe. 

Sakura looked at him and he saw the promise of death in her eyes. Suddenly, inexplicably, the look deadened and transformed to confusion, then horror. 

All Might laughed. He wasn't sure how else to assuage his shocked students. "I think perhaps we were a tad too rough with our newest teacher. Let's call it an early lunch." 

The students dispersed quickly in their confusion with minimal chatter. All Might looked down at her, his fist still closed around her hand, and glanced back behind him. The ground directly behind his ankles and backs of his legs had rippled away in jagged pieces. He had only narrowly managed to absorb the impact of the blow intended for Bakugou. 

"I...I..." 

All Might released her hand. 

"Are you alright?" He asked. His hand was wet with blood from the torn flesh on the back of her hand. 

Sakura tried to stand, stumbled, started to fall. He grabbed her to ease her down and didn't miss the tremble in her legs and hands. 

"You're exhausted. Sit down." 

She had fallen asleep. She was sure of it. Somewhere in the middle of that skirmish her consciousness had slipped for just a moment and raw survival instinct had taken over. 

The flare of One for All was still burning in his chest. He could still feel the danger in the situation before him. His compassion was stronger than his fear, though. 

"Are you moonlighting?" 

Many teachers maintained professional hero contracts on the side. It wasn't uncommon for Aizawa to lecture during the day and patrol a given neighborhood at night for a few hours. Many, though, took it too far. And Sakura, recognizing his intent and with the burdensome knowledge that she was moonlighting in a way he couldn't possibly predict, just nodded. 

"Go home. Get some rest." 

She climbed to her feet and pushed past him. She didn't go home, though. She had spent years sharing a bed with an empty space where Sasuke should have been. He had always been so preoccupied with his mission...She wanted to say she didn't resent him for the lonely hours, but it would have been just another lie piled atop the heap of them. Some lies kept her going. Some threatened to consume her. She sat down heavily in her chair, the door closed behind her, blinds drawn and lights turned off. 

When she woke up there was a cup of tea, a sandwich, and a brand new set of text messages on her phone. 

TBC


	8. Interlude in Perspective

Toshinori's Quirk rapidly dwindled back to embers; still, he was grateful when it worked and rose to the call. He was more troubled that it had flared at all. He didn't think necessarily that she had intended to hurt him. Quite the opposite. Either way, he thought as he sipped a cup of tea, he would have to do something different for her benefit and safety, as well as the students'. He flexed his fist experimentally and was troubled by the spots of blood that still dotted his nails. He wiped his hand many times against his palms, typing with his other hand, and trying hard not to think about what would have happened if her blow had landed.

The image of Bakugou's bones breaking, first up his arms and then down his torso and into his legs, invaded his mind as sharply as a knife invading his chest. He pushed his cup away, trying to force the image out his mind in the same motion, and the shatter of the porcelain on the floor shocked him out of it. 

"Breathe, Yagi...you're fine," He told himself, trying to control the shake in his hand. 

His hands shook harder. 

The thing they had never told him about being a hero was that the wounds never truly went away. He had just replaced physical scars with psychological ones. He had almost added Bakugou to a long list of people he hadn't been able to save. 

"Get a grip, Yagi..." 

* * *

Aizawa turned over the images in his head a million times and then some and he was sure, absolutely and irrefutably, that he had neutralized her Quirk. His eyes had been wide open, his power surging, and still the ground around Yagi had shattered and faltered and given. 

Aizawa quietly tinkered at the lock on the Principal's door, his ears tracking the numerous footsteps echoing from the stairwell beneath him. 

He had questions and he needed answers. 

* * *

 Sakura had memorized the layout of UA within her first week. She had carefully annotated all of it down on a piece of paper, the margins filled with notes about class times, student schedules, teacher rotations, and weekly events. It had started out as mere force of habit; but as she stared at the outline, she realized it could be valuable for cementing her place with the League of Villains. She folded it and tucked it back beneath her floor boards and stood up. The city lights were just beginning to flicker on and she knew she had a job to do. 

She glanced at her cellphone screen again and sighed. Nemuri would be an easy target to track and follow. After all, the woman was hardly a warrior. She may have been a talented combatant, but she didn't have centuries of carefully honed skill to back her Quirk. Sakura did. The kunoichi donned a black shirt and pair of pants, wrapped her arms, and cast a simple illusion on herself. She disappeared into the shadows dancing on her balcony and through the night. Nemuri's agency was easy to enough to find, given its highly publicized nature. Even easier was the woman's schedule: six thirty in the evening to just shy of one in the morning. Sakura wasn't entirely sure what kind of information they were looking for, so she decided she would chart everything she could. 

Midnight was pathetically easy to tail. She never so much as looked back, and the constant parade of admiring fans made it even easier. Midnight was far too busy receiving compliments and signing autograph books to realize that Sakura was never more than a few feet behind her. Of course, the kunoichi wasn't stupid enough to maintain her pink hair and emerald eyes. She had overlaid it with a tidy illusion of black curls and brown eyes and tan flesh. It would have been more convincing if not for the blood running intermittently from her fingernail beds and her arms, but illusions were multi purpose. 

Nemuri, she noted, was vain and she had high hopes it could be used against the woman. She heavily favored her right side over her left and, although her reflexes and dexterity were good, she didn't have the body fat or muscle to take more than a few concerted blows. Sakura could kill her in an instant. It was a thought that filled her with sick joy. All that was left was to capture a sample of the Somnambulist Quirk to try and analyze it. It was a task she was sure she could accomplish whether Nemuri cooperated or not. After all, she thought, nervous systems were just electrical networks. And Kabuto had demonstrated again and again how easy they were to play with.

The crowd was beginning to thin and night was beginning to close in, dark and damp and comforting; and Sakura saw her opportunity. Cloaked in illusion and lies she approached the beautiful woman and smiled. 

"Midnight..." 

The dark-haired woman smiled, "Have we met?" 

"No," Lying was easy. "Just an admiring fan...I...would you get a drink with me?" 

It wasn't a secret Midnight was a bit of a lush. 

"I'm still on the clock," She smiled. 

"I'm a patient woman." 

Midnight licked her lips. Sakura smirked. 

Gentle touches and deep kisses were just the start. Sakura lured her with flattery and blush-dusted cheeks and the barest touch against her thinly clad breasts. And when sake and the dance of tongue on tongue had the woman eager to take her home, she made her move. She reached for Midnight's neck, pressed her mouth ever more eagerly against hers, and shocked her with the lightest surge of electricity. The woman flinched but Sakura was quick to replace pain with a roll of pleasure. Midnight was far too drunk and too turned on to question it. And Sakura had her. 

When Midnight left, surrounded by fan boys and her apprentices alike, Sakura understood her Quirk better than Midnight herself did. 

TBC

 

 

 


	9. Rationalizations and Reports

She slept badly, but she had made peace with her nights being battles many decades before. Her chakra was returning, enough to superficially heal her arms and ease her pain. She showered, eager to rid herself of the night, of Midnight, of her fretful dreams and the sweat and the bloody marks made on her palms by equally bloody nail edges. She dressed, she braided her hair, she pushed away the memories of her fingers easing through Sarada's black locks and across Sasuke's cheeks. She didn't let the images of Kakashi choking on his own blood, his legs and hips torn away from his body, settle too comfortably in her mind. 

She walked to work rather than press herself bodily against so many other people. She longed to run along rooftops, her chakra blazing through her feet, and ached to shatter the ground with her fist...just to remind herself that she could. She was,  _was_  she reminded herself painfully, the wife of Uchiha Sasuke and apprentice of the Lady Fifth. 

Not that it mattered. 

No one remembered the old days of ninja and shinobi wars and chakra and elemental power and illusions. She had seen the pyramids rise, had watched Pharaohs born of mortal blood vie to assert their so-called godly rights, she had watched the European march across continents and the suffering of ancient people, she remembered the feeling of small pox on her skin and the blaze of chakra to burn it away and her failed attempts to save so many, she remembered watching the world shape itself and remembered the horrors of the World Wars, she remembered the burning of people as that horrid bomb dropped from the sky and the fleeting feeling of relief that maybe her death had finally come...and the horrid, twisting agony of realizing that it hadn't, and she remembered a child born in a halo of golden light and warm feelings. Time had taken her across the world so many times...so many horrors and atrocities. She had seen the world burn and turn to ash and rise from the destruction and change again and always, always, always was the burning need to avenge her family and her lost world. 

The need to kill Orochimaru. 

 "I am the last of my kind," She said aloud, just to hear, just to know it, "And I will endure." 

Standing before the gleaming gold of UA, she had to wonder how long it would remain--how soon it would burn and wash away in the raging tide of time. 

Izuku darted past her and smiled, waving, and her chest clenched painfully. Sarada used to look at her the same way, her eyes filled with promise and hope and fire. It had gotten her killed. 

"Midoriya..." 

He skid to a stop, turned, and looked at her with questioning eyes.

She wanted to tell him to give up. To run. To flee from the life that All for One was going to carve through the world through him. To...live...But without him, she had no hope of ending the war with Orochimaru. 

"Have a good day." 

"Thank you, Sensei!" 

Sakura felt sick. There had been a time where even she had balked at the idea of willingly offering up a child to the fires of necessity. She wondered if Sasuke from beyond his grave could hate her...hate what she had become. But he was dead and to avenge him and their poor dead daughter she would do what she had to do. 

"He's going to be a fine hero one day." 

She glanced behind her as Toshinori stepped up to greet her. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to taste his blood in the air. 

"I hope he makes it that far." 

Toshinori eyed her. 

"I've made it my life goal to see to it that he does." 

"Be careful what you devote yourself to." 

"I've never believed in living in fear." 

"Fear keeps people alive." 

He looked at her in a way that made her feel cold and small. 

"Why do you teach, then?" 

"To spare this generations the failings of mine, if I can." 

"That's a lie." 

She glared hard at him. 

"I can see it in your eyes. There's something else." 

An icy finger slipped down her spine and back up to settle achingly at the base of her skull. 

"What do you want of me, Yagi?" 

She hated how small and tired her voice was when it slipped from between her lips. 

"I want to help you, if I can." 

"I don't need help." 

"That's a lie, too." 

 She wanted to cry and beg him to leave her alone. She wanted to scream at him that she didn't want to do what she knew she needed to and then Sarada's poor, mangled face flashed through her mind. She could feel her daughter's cold sticky blood on her hands. She could smell the iron tang in the air. Her vision started to tunnel and it was only by biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood that she broke free of the flashback. 

"I have a class to teach." 

She brushed past him and up the stairs and ached to look back. 

* * *

 She slipped out of the building early, just after her last class and before the other teachers could see her passing by.  It was easier to sneak into Kurogiri's bar during the day when the crowds on the street better covered her entrance and exit. 

"I have a report for you," She told the seemingly empty building as she slammed the door closed behind her and latched it. 

The shadows rose up to reveal two sickly yellow slits. 

"Yes?" 

Sakura glared at him, "I have your report."

"Proceed."

"Midnight's power isn't a simple neurotransmitter release. It's far more complicated. Essentially, she isn't merely an Emitter class Quirk user. She's a mutant class; even if she doesn't know it. Her biochemistry is highly sensitive to the biochemistry of others. I theorize that her Quirk is more effective on males for the same reason women don't express two copies of an X chromosome; essentially, it stops reading the additional X-chromosome's information. Her body is more highly sensitive to Y-chromosomes and highly adept at deciphering their unique neuro-chemical make up. This is why every individual reports a different odor associated with her Quirk and why her Quirk is so much more effective against males. I would further hypothesize that the pheromone like compound she exudes exists in a less refined state in the air than in the brain. Essentially, the victim's brain uptakes this neurotransmitter like substance in a simplified but highly mobile form. This means it is quickly metabolized into a sleep inducing chemical." 

"Thank you."

"Thank you? That's all?"

"Of course, we'll have to test your observations, to ensure your value and your loyalty to our cause."

"You doubt my abilities and my honor?"

"I doubt all people until they give me reason not to."

"And Shigaraki?"

"Beyond reproach," Kurogiri told her. She didn't miss the threat in his voice and the venom in his words.

"Then what is my next assignment?"

"Eager, are you?"

"I have no desire to play games."

"We don't play games. Not within our own order."

"Then give me the assignment details and I'll be on my way."

"You will learn your place and you will find your patience."

Sakura bit back her frustration. After all, what was a few more days, or weeks, even a few more years compared to the centuries behind her? She could wait, she told herself. She would hate it, but she could do it. Time had already proven that. She left without further argument and slipped back to UA. Most of the teachers would be done for the day and preparing to grade papers and homework. It would be conspicuous for her to be absent. She took her place at her desk, coffee cup in hand, and started grading the observations her students had turned in earlier that day. A few, like Izuku's, were passable and showed a fair amount of thought and observational prowess. Others, like Bakugou's, were blatant failures. She glanced at the paper in her hands. 

Sarada never would have made the mistake of assuming her opponent was right handed.

The thought slapped her hard enough to take the wind out of her chest.

The cup in her hands grew hot and she looked up through a veil of unshed tears to see Toshinori pouring more coffee into it. He said nothing, and didn't meet her face with his gaze. She clutched the coffee cup harder, as if the heat could thaw the chill settling over her. 

His hand closed over hers, a gentle warning. He had shattered coffee cups before in his fists and come to with blood pouring from his palms. Sakura laid her other hand over his without thinking about it and pressed. 

* * *

 The lock shifted underneath Aizawa's talented hands and he stepped silently through the door. 

He knew immediately he, and by extension, Nedzu had been duped. 

The apartment was empty, devoid of all the usual odors and sights and eccentricities he expected to find. There wasn't even a bed. He quietly cursed how easily he had been lied to. 

Sakura clearly didn't live in the apartment he stood in. He had hoped her information was accurate, but he couldn't say he was surprised to find he had been lied to. He could sense a cover when he saw one. If anything, he was disappointed in how easily he had been led on a wild goose chase. He glanced at his watch. He was far too late into the day to tail her back to her actual home. And it would be suspect to do so right after his argument with her in the hallway. Better to be patient and bide his time and wait for her guard to drop. 

After all, he knew she wasn't sleeping and he knew she didn't eat enough. 

All things were just a matter of time. 

And Aizawa was a very patient man. 

TBC

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Training was the easiest part of her day. She didn't even necessarily mind working with the students. They reminded her a bit of herself when Tsunade had first gotten her claws into her. 

"Faster, Iida. You'll never catch me moving that slowly." 

Tenya panted, replying, "I'm at full burst!" 

"I might suggest more laps around the track for the upcoming week, then." 

She glanced at Bakugou and motioned at him to step up. 

"Who's my weak-ass opponent this time?" 

"Midoriya." 

The green-haired boy visibly flinched. 

"No Quirks. Straight hand to hand." 

"What the hell?" 

"Yell at me again, Katsuki, and you'll be in detention for a while." 

"Why can't we use our Quirks?" 

She glanced down at Izuku and told him, "Your Quirks can become a crutch if you're not using them in conjunction with good battle sense, timing, and understanding of your opponent." 

"I'm going to kiss his ass!" 

"Well, I suppose that's not strictly yelling at  _me_ , but keep it up and detention will still be an option. You have two minutes to prepare. You'll fight until the opponent yields, is knocked out, or until I call it."

Midoriya certainly didn't look prepared when their timer was up; a part of her ached for him. She could remember the nauseous tension low in her belly every time she had to fight Ino. She hoped maybe he would appreciate the rush of winning all the much more for his terror. 

Bakugou predictably lunged with a strong right-handed fist. Midoriya saw it coming but wasn't able to entirely avoid it. It clipped his shoulder just enough to stagger his balance. He found his footing, swung his body around, and attempted to catch his rival in the chin with an elbow. Bakugou veered to the side, bringing his knee up into Midoriya's stomach. Izuku rolled impressively with the blow, sparing him the worst of it, and used the momentum to swing his leg under Bakugou's left ankle. The blond boy went down hard, slammed his palm into the ground, and used the leverage to bring his foot at Izuku's face. Midoriya stepped around it, kicked up, and brought his leg down on Bakugou's to pin it. The fight dissolved into little more than a back alley brawl. Bakugou kicked Midoriya and he fell down across him. From there, it was sloppy punches and brutal kicks and split lips and black eyes. Sakura let it go for a full minute before she stopped them. 

"That was bad," She remarked placidly. 

"You know what; I'm sick and tired of you coming in here and insulting us--" 

"Enough."

Bakugou visibly blanched at the site of Toshinori making his way down the path. 

"You won't disrespect our new teacher. Two days detention. Open your mouth again while I'm in earshot and it'll be three. She's trying to ensure that when you're on the streets and alone that you're going to have the tools to survive." 

Sakura flinched; he had no idea. No idea that she was turning information over to the League. No idea that she was systematically rooting through their secrets and weaknesses. He thought she wanted to help. And she was really taking notes on how to best defeat--no, she reminded herself. How best to  _kill_ \--these children. She exhaled hard to fight back her need to gag. Someone had done that to Sarada...had killed her with the information that they found through observation. 

 Bakugou grumbled, but returned to his place in line. 

"That's all for today. Go dress down," Sakura told them. "Bakugou! When your detention sentence is up, come and see me. I want to arrange a more private lesson." 

Bakugou sneered, but nodded. 

"I apologize on his behalf," Toshinori bowed deeply. 

"No apology necessary. Teenagers are like that." 

Toshinori's gaze lifted to her wistful, glazed eyes. 

"They're all so little." 

Her loss rolled over him with the force of a tsunami. Her grief was enough to stagger even him. 

"I..." He stopped short of apologizing, too concerned with intruding on her privacy, and bowed more deeply before he turned to leave. 

* * *

Shigaraki had an air that unnerved even Sakura. Admittedly, the feeling might have been easier to stomach if he hadn't merely appeared in the shadows of her apartment and stepped out with his palm up and reaching for her. Sakura could have crushed him. The idea of cleaning up his ripped body from the walls and carpet stilled the instinctive build up of chakra in her fist. 

"Can I help you?" She asked, continuing to wash the dish in her hands. She couldn't quite quiet the shaking of her fingers. 

"Your apartment is pitiful." 

"Call it a starter home." 

"I'm not here to talk domestic shit." 

Sakura shrugged. "You're the one who brought it up." 

"Kurogiri wanted to talk to you himself, but I wanted to deliver the message personally. I don't believe in side quests for someone as important as you." 

"And what is that message?" She pushed the plate up onto the drying board. 

"I need to know more about All Might." 

"I'm sure you'll find my notes quite comprehensive." 

"Not like that," he hissed. "More personally." 

It wouldn't be the first time she had to bed the enemy. The thought didn't particularly bother her. Or, at least, it hadn't until she imagined the devastation on Toshinori's face when she finally betrayed him and his students. She bit back her reservations until she was biting into the flesh of her tongue. Blood spilled out from between her lips. Shigaraki reached out, his hand pressed ominously against her back. She wasn't entirely prepared for the flash of agony as the last of his fingertips made contact with the exposed flesh of her back. 

Shigaraki sneered, "Not even a scream. How brave of you. You'd make a fine hero." 

Sakura gritted her teeth and fought her reflex to retch against the sudden smell of rot. "I'm not interested in being a hero." 

"Even better." 

The air chilled viciously around her and when she managed to turn herself around, he was gone. She cursed Kurogiri. She stumbled to her bathroom and ripped open the vanity mirror. She glanced at the wound: the red of the angry, damaged muscle tissue was packed unevenly around the fleshy pink of her exposed kidney. It was surrounded by a ring of black decay and green infection. 

"Fuck..." She hissed. "How the fuck am I supposed to bed Yagi with a gaping wound in my back? Short sighted fucking fools." 

She slammed the vanity hard enough to shatter the glass. She managed to pull the edges of the musculature together with sheer force of will and angry chakra. It would scar, but she could hide it with illusions and shadows.

* * *

"I don't appreciate when you sneak up on me, my friend," Toshinori smiled despite the edge of his voice. 

Aizawa stepped seamlessly from the darkness and nodded politely at the blond man. 

"What can I do for you, my friend?" 

Aizawa twitched. He couldn't stand how friendly Toshinori could be. 

"Have you noticed anything concerning about our newest staff member?" 

Toshinori prickled. 

"Perhaps a bit overworked, like all of us." 

"I see." 

"Do you have a specific event you'd like to discuss?" 

Aizawa stepped out of the room without another word. Toshinori followed after him. 

"Aizawa, I must say, it's unlike you to engage in the resident rumor mill." 

The dark man made a noncommittal noise in response. 

"I'm heading out tonight, Yagi. Hold down the fort for me." 

"Aizawa!" 

The man was gone before Toshinori could protest. 

TBC

 

 

 


	11. The Book of Life and Death

Sakura slammed the door harder than she needed to; because, really, there was no way that Aizawa could deny he had been snooping in her items when he was hunched over her computer, his fingers moving furiously over the keys. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed, she noted passively. He looked up at her after an infuriating moment of silence and said simply, reasonably, "Maintenance on your laptop." 

She smiled despite herself. She may have learned to manage a smart phone, but she never mastered computers. As a result, she used them to a bare minimum. Aizawa would glean nothing from it. 

"I do wish you had informed me," She smiled pleasantly. 

"I'm sure you understand how busy being a professional hero is." 

"Of course, but I do feel professionalism is paramount if we're to continue working well with one another." 

Aizawa looked up icily at her. She didn't see the expert palming of the USB in his hand. He left quickly, his palm covered by the dragging tails of his scarf. Sakura sat down after his steps faded down the hall. A cursory glance at the screen revealed nothing, but she knew that didn't mean it was clear. She dutifully checked her staff email as she was expected to do. There was nothing significant to her. She promptly logged off, picked up her lesson plans, and prepared to meet her students in the field. 

* * *

 Aizawa was a patient man. It served him well, he reminded himself as he sat down at his desk on a secured internet access point and began offloading every piece of data that was Sakura's laptop. While he waited for the transfers to complete, he opened a manila file folder. He had carefully spirited them away from Nedzu's office in bits and pieces and copied them painstakingly by hand so the original copies were always tucked in their drawer. Her name checked out according to his information. She appeared, on paper and in his research, to be a transfer from America. She had very few credentials, but an impressive litany of heroic deeds around her presence. Former agency coworkers spoke highly of her and her abilities; suspiciously there was no precise mention of her Quirk. He wasn't entirely surprised given how much more lax America was with the registry of their Quirk users. 

Her address was certainly fake, but he would have to wait on that.

He perused a selection of dates listed beside deeds. The details sat poorly with him. Accidents that were atrocious with unusually high rates of survivors, incidents in remote areas, and hardly anything more mundane. He didn't see a single instance of aiding in a public service member or volunteer work. It read like reading All Might's records, he thought wryly. In that case, however, he believed his record was influenced more by the media circus around his presence than a lack of action on the man's part. Aizawa glanced over a sticky note filled with medical reference numbers from the specific cases. He had enough to call up a contact he had in the hospital computer administration network. Aizawa closed up his files, packed them in a lock briefcase, and slung it over his shoulder.

* * *

 "The wrist is a pivot point. It's easy to get out of it. Uraraka, come forward, please."

The brunette girl did so eagerly. Sakura clasped the girl's left wrist in her right hand.

"How do you disengage?"

The girl smiled, "Press out hard against where the thumb and wrist meet. Gunhead-san showed me that one."

"Excellent. Now we're going to talk about real world disengagements when your opponent is, undoubtedly, failing to fight fairly."

"Like what?" Iida asked.

"Bites, hair pulls, eye jabs, and many others. This unit will take a few days," Sakura said, pairing them off by name on a piece of paper.

She pulled Izuku to the front of the room to demonstrate.

"You're going to put your mouth against me arm."

"That's not a bite," Bakugou huffed.

"In class our goal isn't to injure. It's to learn," She told him.

She angled her body against Izuku's, stabilized his head from behind with a hand against the flounce of his green hair, and pushed into the bite. 

"The goal is to apply pressure to the septum, forcing them to release. Then, roll down against the lower job to pull away. Don't just rip out of the bite. The goal is to make the motion fluid so there's less tearing to the tissue involved. Keep in mind that as you break away from a bite, they have the chance to strike or kick. Angling your body away from them helps protect your abdomen and chest." 

"That, my listeners, is why your fabulous DJ keeps his hair up high and away from the action!" Mic smiled radiantly, tipping his hand in greeting to Sakura. 

"Hizashi-san," She acknowledged. 

"I apologize for interrupting your regularly scheduled programming, my listeners. I need coverage for the dorms tonight. Eraserhead and I have been asked to handle a case this evening. And I don't want to leave All Might by himself." 

The stars had a way of aligning, Sakura told herself. She agreed, careful to keep her voice neutral. 

"I'll have to swing by my apartment before tonight to get a change of clothes and some personal products. I'll leave on my lunch, but my phone is turned up in case you need me in the interim." 

* * *

 Aizawa watched her fold clothes with military precision and tuck them into a small duffel. She packed her deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, and sparse makeup in a smaller bag. She gave no indication at any point that she had sensed she was being followed and watched. And so he waited until long after she departed her apartment. He wrapped the end of his scarf around a nearby pole and dropped down onto her window ledge. The flick of his wrist deposited the flat edge of a blade underneath the window. He worked carefully to avoid damaging the paint or window frame, a move which might give him away later. He started to pull the window up when his eye caught the flash of a silver thread worked into the window tract. He stopped, examining the shimmering line. 

It wasn't a trap, he decided, but it was dangerous. She had reason to check her windows nightly to detect infiltration. Aizawa changed his plan on the fly and worked his way to the roof of the building. He found a vent and patiently mapped his way along the numerous floors and shafts. It took him several hours, but he managed to drop down into the vent that fed her apartment air conditioning and heating. He wasn't surprised to find a web of silver threads crossing the opening of it. He traced them, marking them with tiny plastic flags to denote one thread from another and the direction of the wrap. It took him more than an hour, but he figured out how to map the threads on a piece of paper, undo them, and drop the grate from the vent. 

He wiped his boots with a rag from his utility pack before he dropped from the shaft into her apartment. He inspected the tiny living room. It was immaculately clean in the way show rooms were: entirely without the presence of day to day living. He worked his way over to her bathroom and avoided turning on the light. He plucked a flashlight from his belt and scanned the room in the scant yellow light. Her mirror was spattered in dried red circles. He found a bloody fingernail trapped in her drain. Her bathtub had a sickening coppery smell and a red stained water line. Her trashcan was full of discarded medical supplies and wrappers. Unsettled, he walked through her living room and to the open kitchen attached adjacent to it. 

Her fridge was barren and what he did find was hardly edible. The greens in her crisper drawer were actively molding. The rows of yellow medicine bottles on her coffee table caught his eye. None of them were illegal, but there were combinations he knew to be dangerous. Beside the collection of barbiturates were numerous prescriptions for opiates and more than a few bottles of alcohol in various states of emptiness. He noted the dates without touching them. He couldn't afford to leave fingerprints. The dates varied, some as old as five years and seemingly untouched. Aizawa decided he had pressed his luck as far as he could and made his way back. He pulled the grate back up into the vent, webbed the thread lines, and made his way back up the shafts to the roof. He made sure his hair was free of dust before he met Present Mic for their nightly round. The man asked why his original partner failed to show. Aizawa shrugged noncommittally and said something about crime being up in the area. 

He didn't really feel he was lying. 

TBC

 

 


	12. The Desire to Protect

Sakura didn't protest when Toshinori decided to make dinner. It had been a very long time since she had made a real meal. After all, there was no daughter to feed, no husband to pack leftovers for, and no sensei or friends to test her recipes on. The thought would have hurt if she hadn't been so tired. The click of the plate being set down snapped her out of her thoughts as they started to bleed crimson. 

"It's sweet potato, onion, and mushroom tempura with okonomiyaki. There's rice in the steamer, if you need more." 

"Aren't you going to eat?" She asked. 

She knew he couldn't, but he didn't know that she knew. And, if nothing else, it opened the door for conversation. Shigaraki wanted him bedded, off-balance, and blindsided when he did move against U.A.. Sakura was determined to make his willful wishes reality. 

"I prefer tea this late in the evening." 

Truthfully, he just preferred not vomiting that late into the night. He had tempted fate with the few bites of tempura he had while preparing the okonomiyaki. He would chance some rice later if the tempura stayed down. He politely poured her a cup of tea, presented her a bottle of honey, and sat back. It was a luxury she didn't have with the gaping wound in her back. She shifted her weight against her hip to recline without pressing it. 

"Dinner is lovely." 

"Thank you." 

The man was frustratingly difficult to draw into a conversation. Tsunade had taught her how to seduce an enemy, but not how to naturally draw a man in and keep him there without the benefit of her breasts and butt and booze to lubricate the situation. And she certainly never learned with Sasuke...not with how often and how long he was away from home. She loved him, but she recognized that there lovemaking had been dispassionate and mechanical...learned to live with the idea that he would never truly come home because even when she could hold him in her arms, his mind was far away. if he hadn't died, eventually, she was sure, they would have divorced. In some ways, it was sweeter to hold onto her memories, veiled in her haze of girlish love, than to confront what would have been if Orochimaru hadn't taken him from her. 

He could have spared Sarada, she thought viciously, and it was a mistake he would pay for. 

"What would you like to watch tonight?" 

The domestic simplicity of his question unexpectedly derailed her righteous fury. 

"What are you currently enjoying?" 

"Samurai Gourmet is entertaining," He offered. 

She agreed. She didn't watch TV, but she could pretend to be interested. It gave her a platform to talk about the food, the aesthetic of the show, and the pacing of the program. 

"You look uncomfortable," Toshinori commented when she shifted again. 

"Just sore," She lied. "The students work me just as hard as I work them." 

"I appreciate you taking them on. I know they can be challenging to work with." 

The flicker of motion caught her eyes and she glanced up; Izuku politely coughed to announce his presence. 

"I...need help with the math homework." 

"Come sit down, my boy." 

Sakura shifted further away, as if Izuku's touch might burn her. His small body looked like it would fit comfortably underneath her arm. She bit back her tears, her teeth grating hard against her tongue. There was no time to mourn. All the world was a stage and she was an actress upon it. She needed to play her role. 

 "Your sin and cosine functions are reversed. You need to redo them. Also, tan theta is equal to sin theta over cos theta. The function you have here is cot theta." 

"Oh..." 

Toshinori lovingly fondled Izuku's hair. "You'll get it. You just need practice." 

"Here, Midoriya. Memorize these six functions and this table." Her pen scrawled across a sheet. She sketched a unit circle, the angles, and included the functions in the margins. 

"Thanks, Sakura-sensei. I had a question about the homework you assigned, too." 

"Yes?" 

"You wanted us to assess our classmates' weaknesses in terms of their Quirks and personality. I don't understand why you asked us to examine yours." 

"You can't be a good asset to a future agency if you aren't objective about your skills. I expect that objectivity to extend to your managers and the heads of your operations. This isn't intended to embolden disrespect, but simply to increase your awareness." 

"Thank you, Sensei." 

"Run along, my boy. It's late. And budding heroes need their sleep." 

Sakura smiled despite herself. There had been a day when Sasuke had ruffled Sarada's hair lovingly and gently guided her back down the hallway. 

Her phone buzzed alarmingly against her hip and she peered at it only long enough to confirm it was Giran before she tucked it away. 

"Does duty call?" 

"No." 

"Pleasure, then, perhaps?" Toshinori smiled playfully. 

"Certainly not. I don't keep romantic company at the moment, and work keeps me busy enough to complicate a social life." 

Toshinori nodded understandingly. "My evenings are free, if you ever want company. I enjoy board games and poorly written TV dramas." 

Sakura laughed even though she didn't want to; and her back ached in reply. The pain didn't seem so consuming with him in the room. He soothed her in a way that reminded her of Kakashi. She longed to reach for his long-fingered hand and quenched the desire by burying her hand against the sofa cushion. She resisted the urge to pull at her sleeping blouse and expose the edge of her chest. It would have worked on Giran, but Toshinori was too polite to consider engaging in a sexual tryst with her. She needed to work him differently. 

"Shall we resume our evening entertainment?" Sakura asked. 

Toshinori smiled, clicked the remote, and sat down beside her. 

She didn't recognize she was tired until she snapped awake several hours later. Her breathing hitched horribly in her throat, her panic closing in around her. And then there was Toshinori's hand extending from the deep darkness of the living room. He clasped her hand, his eyes closed politely to spare her the embarrassment of being seen, and his head tilted back against the sofa. He didn't move. He just breathed. 

"It's okay. It's late. You're just tired. We all have them. It's okay. Close your eyes."  

Sakura gripped his hand. And despite the waves of panic that had just crashed over her, she found the promise of a dreamless sleep drawing her back down into the couch. She knew there was a bed in the empty dorms reserved for teachers on overnight duty just around the corner. A quiet place to rage against the dark. But instead she curled her fingers around his, closed her eyes, and let herself sleep. 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Dates and Data

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Sorry for the delay in the update. I got some incredible feedback on a chapter and I wanted to take it and run with it. So this chapter was a little late in the tinkering and the posting! 
> 
> A note on Japanese culture: I'm not a Japanese culture buff myself, but I do know several who are traveling in Japan right now and have degrees in Japanese culture and mythology. So I've taken their suggestions about colors and themes appropriate for birthdays and tried to incorporate that information.

* * *

 Hizashi pressed a cup of coffee onto her desk with a smile so radiant even she couldn't be annoyed. 

"How are you doing, my pinkest listener?" 

"I'm well. Yourself?" 

"I have a musical moment for you!" 

Sakura shifted uncomfortably, "Yes?" 

"It has come to our attention that this is a special day!" 

Her mind skipped and failed to find the piece of information he was citing. Her grades were entered, she had started writing the end of term exams, her students were progressing nicely, and, as far as she could recall, there were no school events that required her attendance as a chaperone on the calendar for the week. 

Hizashi called loudly into the hall, "It's time, my listeners!" 

The door swung open and Izuku and Uraraka trudged in, carrying a cake supported between the two of them was overflowing with sprinkles and candy. One layer had started to shift and was looking quite precarious by the time they plopped it down on her desk. Following behind them were a number of students holding carefully wrapped boxes in greens and purples. They lined up, one at a time, and handed them off to her with both hands and quietly stepped back. 

"We understand in America that presents are normally opened in front of the gift giver. It's a tradition the kiddos are interested in experiencing," Hizashi motioned comically. 

She swallowed. She wasn't worried about being disappointed. The kids could hardly be faulted for trying and she could put on a good show for their benefit. She opened the first small box in a flourish of crinkly paper and bows. Inside was a chunk of rock painstakingly painted with her name in magenta characters. 

"Yaoyorozu and I did that one!" Kirishima piped up. 

"It's lovely!" Sakura ran her thumb over the smooth surface of it. It had been polished to a mirror finish. 

The students were surprisingly patient while she picked another box out of the small heap. Inside, pillowed with velvet, was a snow globe containing a version of U.A. in miniature. The base was inscribed with the names of all of her students and beneath the present was a card. She turned it over and there were the words: "For all that you do, so that one day we may too be heroes."

She choked her feelings back and hid them with a smile.  

They had all made cards and sweets and hand crafted gifts, she realized as she sorted through the pile growing on her desk. When at last every box and bag had been open, Hizashi sang her a rock version of the America birthday song and they cut into the mound of rapidly melting chocolate cake and frosting. She ate three bites before Hizashi helpfully presented her a cup of black tea. 

Sakura managed her gag reflex by sheer willpower alone and drowned the desire to vomit with another bite of suddenly sickly sweet frosting. Sarada's favorite flavor was that of black tea. Sakura remembered struggling to find a cake that would take those flavors without diluting or corrupting them. She remembered brewing tea for Sarada when she was sick or had a bad day at the Academy. 

"Please, excuse me, everyone. I'll be right back." 

"Too much excitement, our pinkest listener?" 

She gagged on the word "our," and stepped into the hall before her composure could crumble completely. She walked to the staff bathroom on the floor two stories above them for the additional space it gave her. She washed her face in the bathroom and was promptly startled by Jirou's appearance at the top of the stair well. 

"Sorry, Sensei...I got worried. Your heartbeat was pretty erratic." 

Sakura reached out despite herself and drew the girl close. She buried her nose on top of Jirou's black haired head and felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes. 

"Sensei? I know you're sad. I can hear it." 

"It's alright, dear. Just overwhelmed. You and your class are very kind to me." 

"It's the least we can do. You're trying to keep us from getting killed later on. A cake seemed like a fair trade, at least for right now." 

Sakura pulled away before the girl could remind her too much of Sarada. 

"I'll be down in a moment. Go have another piece of cake for me." 

Jirou reluctantly did as she was told and Sakura didn't linger for fear that others might try to find her, too. Then again, she knew she couldn't escape the trap of her own making. She pushed back against the desire to reach our for Izuku and Todoroki and the painful tug to pull Uraraka closer. She thanked them, formally, desperate to have some emotional distance but reluctant to hurt them with coldness. She left for the day, a paper bag stuffed with sloppy slices of cake. 

* * *

 

"What's up?" Yaoyorozu prompted when Jirou sighed for the fifth time, her eyes unfocused despite the magazine propped convincingly in front of her. 

"I'm just...distracted. It's fine."

"You're a bad liar." 

Jirou smiled despite herself. She flipped herself over onto her stomach, the magazine discarded onto the floor. 

"It's just Haruno-san...she seemed sad today." 

"You know, she really did..." Uraraka tapped her pencil against the dorm common room desk. 

"I noticed that, too." 

Momo glanced up at Todoroki, "Any idea why?" 

He shook his head. 

"She's been...off for a while. I've been trying to figure out why." 

"Really, Deku?" Bakugou sighed, watching him leaf through a spiral notebook filled to the margins with reminders and observations.

"Really, Kacchan," He replied. 

"What have you noticed?" Todoroki asked from behind a laptop screen that threw an unsettling shadow on his scar. 

"She's tired, all the time. Like...more tired than All Might. She shakes all the time, too."

"She drinks a lot of coffee, but I haven't seen her eat anything," Bakugou said. 

"Sensei is probably just moonlighting. All the pros do it," Momo said. 

Deku recognized that Momo herself didn't fully believe that was the end of it, either. Her voice had lilted up at the end, and her eyes had slid away from his. 

"We've managed to take reasonable care of All Might. We could do the same for her," Tokoyami offered in passing. 

Deku allowed the idea. "He has a point..." 

"I can make her a bento breakfast when I make All Might's," Kaminari said. 

"We don't even know what she likes, though." 

"Ah...Damn...that's true..." Kirishima folded his arms over the table and leveled his chin across them.

"It can't be that hard to figure out. We'll start simple. If she eats it, we'll know she liked it. If she doesn't, we'll move on. It's our job as good students to figure this out. If we can't manage at least one passable bento this week, none of us deserve to be heroes!" 

Izuku smiled at Iida and nodded. 

"Everyone in?" Kirishima smirked, pushing Bakugou into the center of the group. 

"In!" 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Frayed

"What's your Quirk, Sensei?" 

"Redirection," Sakura replied, wiping her chalk dusted hands on her pants. 

"And what does it do?" 

Sakura glanced at Izuku, "It allows me to push back against various attacks." 

"I...well...a few of us wanted some extra help after school. If you have the time, of course." 

"I'd be happy to help," She replied. 

"Thank you!" 

Sakura smiled despite herself. 

The class ended with minimal drama and Sakura made her way to the teacher's lounge. To her surprise, Midnight was sitting among the chairs. Her high-heeled boots had been kicked off and replaced with a ridiculous pair of fluffy slippers. 

"Don't tell the children?" The woman winked, glancing at her slippers and back up. 

"Your secrets are safe with me." 

"How is test season treating you?" 

"As well as can be expected." 

"Is Bakugou still giving you a hard time?" 

Sakura sniffed, "He's certainly not more than I can handle." 

"No, but he can be obnoxious." 

"Fair enough." 

"I was hoping to do a dual training session with you soon. The boys are always pairing up. I think it would be good to show them that two girls can play the field, too." 

Sakura smirked, "I like that idea." 

"You have fabulous hair." 

The gentle rake of Midnight's long red fingernail down her scalp sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Just as quickly, the woman flinched back and apologized for being so forward. 

"It's alright. I don't mind. You know, the students were interested in a session today. I know it's short notice, but would you like to come?" 

"I'd love to join you! I'll need to seek out All Might and let him know that I'll grade with him another day."

"Allow me. I'm the one who interfered in your plans."

Midnight hummed happily and pivoted back to her computer. Sakura finished inputting her grades and gathered her supplies.

Toshinori wasn't difficult to find. The odor of blood was a constant characteristic surrounding him. All she had to do was follow the trail of coppery stench up the hall and into an empty classroom. She entered and was surprised to see that he was sitting up in the chair at the front of the room.

Asleep.

Vulnerable.

It wouldn't take much, she told herself. His heart was in poor shape. It wouldn't take much to send it into failure. He would pass with relatively little pain and she could present proof of his death to the League. It would guarantee her entry into One for All's most private chambers...a dagger straight into Orochimaru's poisoned, foul heart. She reached out for him, her palm glowing a fuzzy green. Her chakra seeped in through his skin and down into his muscles and nerves and organs. The stem of his trachea that branched and ended abruptly with scar tissue instead of a lung was horribly inflamed. The scar oozed blood from poorly healed tissue. The top of his intestine that connected to his trachea in place of a stomach was a knot of fibrous tissues. She could see why digestion was so hard for him. The mucus lining of his intestines was shredded and the tissues angry. His heart was packed with fluid and constricted.

It would be easy. She just needed to squeeze.

She eased her chakra into his chest and encouraged the fluid to drain away. She routed it through the cellular walls and back into the intestines where it could pass harmlessly. His mouth, open in a gentle snore, was inflamed and dotted with open sores from the constant blood flooding up from his chest. Sakura pushed her chakra into the delicate mucus membranes and sealed the edges of the wounds.

There would be time later, she told herself, to kill him. A time when she was more sure of Orochimaru's position and when she would guarantee a chance at him. No need to throw a dagger when she wasn't sure of the target. Not yet. 

Toshinori startled away with the icy pull from his chest up into his mouth. His eyes fell on the woman and he jerked himself upright.

"My apologies. How undignified of me to fall asleep in the classroom."

"My apologies for waking you. I asked Midnight to join me later this evening, but she mentioned she had a standing date with you. I'm afraid I may have convinced her to pass along a rain check in your direction."

"That's quite fine. I was feeling a bit tired, anyway," He smiled.

Sakura smiled, turned to leave, and hesitated. 

"You sound congested. You should get checked. There's a flu going around." 

"Thank you. I'll be sure to see Recovery Girl." 

* * *

 "You're slow, Midoriya. You can't hope to catch me if you can't move faster." 

Uraraka lunged at Sakura, his fingertips spread wide in front of her and reaching. Sakura easily moved the girl to the side with the sweep of her feet and sent her stumbling into Izuku. Todoroki shot out from behind them with a swath of ice erupting from his palm. Sakura batted the glacial wave away hard enough to crack the bridge of it and send Todoroki sliding off the edge. 

"Your teamwork is getting better," Sakura said, pausing to catch her breath. 

"And we have little to show for it..." Todoroki said, rising and brushing the frost from his knees. 

"You'll get there if you keep practicing." 

"It's late. We should go get dinner," Midnight said, her gaze up towards the moon rising from the city skyline. 

"Thank you, but I really should get hom--" 

"Nonsense. It's my treat. You and the students. For all your hard work." 

"Please, sensei? It's only fair given we're the ones who kept you out late." 

Sakura ruffled Uraraka's hair unthinkingly, "Alright." 

Izuku cheered and clamped his hand over hers, leading her back towards the building with contagious enthusiasm. 

"Where are we going?" 

"A sushi place. My favorite one, actually," Midnight winked. 

Not long after, Sakura found herself sitting at a wooden bar with heaps of sushi piled around them. 

"One of the benefits of owning my own agency: I own the profits and can spend them how I like," Midnight said from behind a ceramic sake glass. 

Sakura smiled and accepted the glass of sake the woman slid to her. 

"Do you have any suggestions for us as we move forward?" Todoroki asked, sipping on cola instead of sake. 

"Just keep practicing. Keep practicing with and against each other." 

"We want to train more with you. So far no one in Class I-A has truly bested you. Bakugou grabbing your hair was a cheap shot and I can't truly say it counted." 

Sakura eyed Todoroki, "In field combat, anything goes. Honestly, I should have cut my hair that night." 

The kunoichi fingered the ends of her long pink hair and remembered faintly that moment she had taken a kunai to it. She couldn't even remember the Sound Nin's name; but she did remember the feeling of his nose breaking underneath her fist and the taste of his blood when she clamped her teeth down against his forearm. 

"Bakugou is so mean." 

Sakura laughed despite herself at Uraraka's indignation. Then she stopped herself. 

Something was definitely wrong with her drink. She hadn't noticed it at first, but now she could see the residue at the bottom of her cup and feel the unnatural mirth in her veins. She glanced at Midnight. The woman was too embroiled in her meal. She wasn't looking for signs that Sakura was impaired. And it certainly didn't strike the kunoichi as being the woman's style to poison. Her eyes flicked up to the bartender. He was too drunk to be managing the basic drinks, let alone anything specially prepared. And then in the back of the room she saw a flash of white and grey and killing intent. 

"Please excuse me. I'm going to dart off to the restroom." 

She turned the corner and followed the flash of murderous fury. She reached out, her hand snaking between two people, and she hauled the figure forward and up against the wall. She snugged down small, as if they were flirting, and told him, "Keep your decay inducing hands in your pockets, Tomura. I won't hesitate to kill you." 

"That's a change in tone from our last session," He smirked. 

"What do you want?" 

"You're quite the wonder. That was a potent mixture that Kurogiri spirited into your drink. You're quite the conundrum, my princess." 

Sakura's fist tightened as Tsunade's face flashed across her mind. She wasn't deserving of the former Godaime's title. She knew that. 

"Get to your fucking point, Tomura." 

She let her chakra bleed the images of what she would do to him all around him. 

"So pleased. He's going to be so pleased. He's been waiting so long." 

" _Tomura!"_

"All for One is quite interested in your and your Quirk. I've told him all about you. And now this. This is spectacular. The best game of all!" 

"I can and will kill you." 

"I'm sure my master would find that quite amusing!" 

Shocked, she let him go and he walked past her. Briefly, painfully, his fingertips raked along her back. The skin split and the blood dripped down her hip. She cursed, bringing chakra to the surface to seal it and slipping her sweater off her waist and over her arms. She hurried back, her chakra working at clearing the drug in her bloodstream before they could damage her kidneys and liver. She briefly visited the bathroom to purge what she could in the form of inert urine and took her place back at the table. 

"It's getting late. We should return to the dorms." 

She smiled at Todoroki, thanked him for the excellent conversation, and let them leave. She turned back to pick her glass up off the table, eager to study the poisonous compound, and palmed it. 

"Thank you for the lovely meal, Midnight, but I really must be going, too." 

"I understand. Thank you for joining us!" 

Sakura bowed and stopped herself from bolting out of the door. She made it to the end of the street, turned the corner, and made a break for her apartment. She tore through the door, the hinges whining in protest, and cleared her table with the sweep of her arms. She scraped the glass out onto a slide and set about working it over with her chakra. It was some kind of mutagen, but when she added a drop of her own blood to the solution, nothing happened. She hissed in protest, rubbing the sweat away from her eyes and shuddering. Her back hurt. Her feet ached. Her head was throbbing.

She tossed the sample and the cup into the trash at the end of the table and screeched as she flopped onto the couch. 

"Fuck!" 

She threw her lamp against the wall and found the crystal shattering of glass soothing. She closed her eyes. 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Dance with the Devil

**"We need more info. Bring me everything, my pretty slut."**

She slammed the phone shut and dropped it into her bag before she could crush it in her rage. 

"Everything alright, Haruno-san?" 

She gave Nedzu a syrupy smile as she stepped into the conference room, "Just fine, Sir. Problems at the agency."

"I understand. Should we let you run?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"Very well. As you all know, we're stepping up security on campus with the recent increase in villain activity. We'll also be hosting a dance with several of the contracted agencies soon. It'll be an opportunity for the students to mingle with their future bosses and comrades in a relaxed environment, but it will also be invaluable for demonstrating decorum and conduct on part of the staff. It's to be quite the event. All of you are to participate and I expect the dress code to be strictly followed." 

Sakura eyed the piece of paper he slipped in front of her. It was immaculately decorated, with shimmering black letters embossed on heavy cream colored card stock. 

"I'll need to go shopping. Would you like to join me?" Midnight asked her, playfully bumping Sakura's shoulder with her hip. 

"Thank you for the invitation. I'd be pleased to accept." 

"Would it be a problem if we took Uraraka and Asui? Their families aren't doing well financially and I intend to help them make a good impression." 

"Not at all." 

"Today?" 

"Of course." 

"See you after classes, then!" 

Sakura followed her out back into the hallway where they parted ways. She put her stuff into her locker in the staff lounge, changed into a track suit, and walked to her room. The students were dutifully seated and prepared. 

"Today we're going to run our PT drills and then discuss the biomechanics of lethal attacks."

"Sensei?" 

"Yes?" She glanced up at Iida. 

"We know you were hired for the term, but we petitioned Principal Nedzu to have you signed on more permanently." 

Sakura lowered her clipboard and looked at him. For the first time, she realized his eyes were a dark blue. Guilt flashed painfully across her breast. 

"You're all very kind--" 

"We want you to be with us when we graduate. We want to keep learning." 

"Well, then, I won't feel bad about ordering the lot of you out into the field. It's time to run the mile." 

* * *

 "You confirmed all of them?" 

"Yes, Sir, but they're all...bizarre. There's no way these people could have survived these accidents. I don't think Recovery Girl could have helped them." 

"Thank you for checking in on these. I'd be happy to pay the favor back one day." 

"Not a problem, Eraserhead." 

Aizawa hung up the phone with a click. He stared at the print outs posted across his bedroom. Half of the people reported on her credentials could eventually be linked to criminal behavior; but that was an increasing problem. Even some of All Might's old contacts were eventually revealed to have been involved in organized crime. Aizawa didn't appreciate the enigma of it all. 

He dropped back into his seat and stared up at the ceiling with red eyes and a pounding headache. 

* * *

 "I...think it could be...better." 

Asui tilted her head at Sakura's comment. The pink-haired woman wasn't sure what else to say to the green abomination of the gown. The length was awkward for her frame, hung off her shoulders like a bag, and was, truthfully, the worst shade of green Sakura had ever seen. 

"What about this?" 

She pulled a dress with a flattering knee-length pleated skirt in a dark teal and gathered top in black velvet with long sleeves. 

Tsuyu gathered it up from her sensei and walked back towards the changing room. Uraraka excited just as the door next to her closed and sighed as she put another dress onto the return rack. 

"Too tight?" 

She nodded at Midnight. 

"I understand your pain," Midnight glanced down at her own ample bust. 

"Alright. What other colors do you enjoy wearing?" 

"Reds are alright. Blues are okay. Not oranges or yellows, though." 

"Maybe this?" 

Midnight held up a dress comprised of a sparkly mesh overlay against a strapless black dress with a red and pink ombre skirt that fell to just below the knee. 

"I'll try it." 

Sakura turned to the rack again and pulled out a red dress with long sleeves, an unusual neckline, and a long skirt that was vaguely mermaid shaped. Midnight smiled and held up a black sheath of fabric with a halter top and a dangerously low back. 

"Lovely." 

"Likewise." 

The door opened and Uraraka stepped out. Her skirt flounced playfully with her skip. 

"Do you like it?" 

"I love it!" 

Midnight smiled back, "Excellent. It fits well. Are you comfortable?" 

Uraraka nodded. 

"Perfect. Take it off and we'll have it boxed up for you." 

Uraraka reached for the tag and Midnight closed her fist over it. 

"You don't worry about the price. Not today, anyway." 

Uraraka wiped away a tear and disappeared back into the room. Asui exited not long after to model her dress. 

"It looks lovely! Are you comfortable? Too warm?" 

"I prefer to be warm. I think it's pretty." 

"That it is. Do you like it or do you want to keep looking?" 

"This one." 

"Perfect. Take it off. Don't worry about the price. Just take it to the front. We'll be there in a moment." 

"We should hurry," Midnight added as Asui walked away. 

"Why?" 

"The rehearsal is tonight." 

"Rehearsal?" 

"Nedzu-san insists on it..."

* * *

Sakura couldn't say Midnight hadn't tried to warn her. She sighed, pulled the dress down where it insisted on continuing to ride up on her hip. 

"May I?" 

She nodded at Toshinori. He stepped forward, cupping her shoulder blade with one hand and taking her hand with his other. She dutifully laid on hand across his jacket shoulder seam. 

"I'm quite clumsy. I apologize." 

Sakura ignored the way his knee bumped her's as they swayed to the music. 

"What's the point of this?" 

"Principal-san believes in making a good impression." 

"With ballroom dance?" 

"It's the decorum of it. I doubt the students are having a better time of it..." 

His hand slipped and the shudder that wracked his body passed up into hers. She pulsed her chakra back against him to ease the pain in his chest and seal up the blood vessels she knew would be seeping.  

"I...uh..." He cleared his throat. 

"Yes?" 

"Excuse me, All Might. Might I break in?" 

Sakura tilted her head to Aizawa. He bowed, his bun-bound hair flopping in time with his head, and straightened his tie. Toshinori thanked Sakura and politely moved away to allow Aizawa to take over. 

The man stepped forward and clasped her hand dangerously. He pulled her uncomfortably close with his free hand, and leaned in close. Sakura felt the tension settle like a clot of blood in her stomach. 

"You're quite forward." 

"I'm not a man to make a habit of hiding my feelings." 

"Clearly." 

He swung her hard enough that the heel of her stiletto slipped. She leaned hard against him to recover her footing and smirked when his own balance shifted. 

"We should talk." 

"I'm not a patient woman. Say what you want to say or move on." 

His hand clenched hard in the fabric at the back of her dress. 

"I like my students. They are frustrating and immature and they need a firmer hand." 

"I'm glad you agree." 

"You, however, will not be that hand if I have it my way." 

Sakura laughed despite herself, "You say that like you think you can stop me. I'm here with the blessing of your Principal."

"If I have it my way, you won't be for much longer. I'm quite sure you a fraud, Sensei. A fraud I intend to expose."  

"You keep saying that: _if_ you have it your way, _if_ you're assumptions are correct. What if you're _wrong_ , Aizawa?" 

"I'll say this, Sakura-san. I don't like cleaning up messes. This would be a good time for you to decide, politely, not to make a mess for me to clean up. You have an impressive reputation in America, if your credentials are accurate. It would hardly be unheard of for a teacher to leave to pursue more favorable financial aspects with friendly agencies." 

"I'm not out for the money." 

"You're not out for the best interests of the students, either." 

Sakura disengaged from the dance, bowed shallowly, and excused herself to the bathroom. She splashed her face with cold water and dabbed it away from her eyes before her eyeliner could smear. He wasn't wrong...he couldn't possibly understand, either. The cellphone tucked in her bra buzzed against her ribs. She pulled it out, read the message, and tucked it back away. 

Her window was closing. She needed to rope him in and find a way to keep him close. 

She bit herself hard enough to draw blood and didn't mind the way the crimson of her life blood and the red of her lipstick mixed. 

TBC 

 


	16. An Ultimatum

"At least one teacher suspects me." 

Giran frowned and promptly downed a shot of liquor. 

"What are you going to do about it, baby?" 

"You're my handler. What do you want done about it?" 

"I want you to bring me a student. We'll set it up. All you have to do is deliver them to us. Alive. Unharmed. We'll do the rest." 

Sakura glanced at him and took her own shot before the bile gathering in the back of her throat overwhelmed the alcohol. 

"When?" 

* * *

"We'll be taking a field trip." 

"Oh?" Sakura looked up from her computer. 

"A day trip to Tokyo DisneySea." 

Sakura squirmed in her seat and smiled at All Might, "When?" 

"3 weeks from now. The students don't know." 

"I won't tell." 

"You're on dorm watch tonight, yes?" 

"I am." 

"Perhaps you'd like to join Izuku and I for dinner?" 

"We just had breakfast," Sakura laughed. "I didn't know Midoriya cooked." 

"It's a project I've been working on with him. He can't live off melon bread and cup ramen forever. Once I teach him to cook, I'll teach Young Bakugou how to hold a conversation and Young Uraraka how to manage her finances." 

"I'll be there." 

She turned back to her work. Her fingers trembled across the keyboard. She lifted her coffee cup and it slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. The porcelain shattered. 

"Everything alright, my listener?" 

She waved Present Mic off as pleasantly as she could manage and turned to clean up the mess. She picked up the largest shards, opened the door to discard them, and came face to face with Aizawa. He smiled at her. She pushed past him, tossed the shattered pieces into the bin, and retrieved a roll of paper towels to clean the puddle of coffee on the floor. She barely felt the slice across her fingers. Mechanically, she discarded the bloodied paper towels and walked towards the staff bathroom. 

She locked the door behind her and rinsed the bloody gash. She tried to pull the edges together with her chakra. The images of Sarada's disfigured body, hemorrhaging blood and chakra as she poured more and more and more into the dead, unresponsive cells overtook her. She gripped the edge of the sink as the floor spun away from her. The metal dented beneath her palms. 

"You're so close...stop it. Just stop it..." 

She released the edge of the sink and let her fingernails did deeply into her palms instead. Sakura released the latch on the door and stepped out. The sunlight coming through the window was a deep orange. The sunset light reflecting off the tile hurt her eyes. Her head throbbed. 

"Sakura-san?" 

She looked up at Toshinori and almost didn't register his face. He shifted the box of groceries from one arm to the other and reached for her hand. 

"When did you cut yourself?" 

"A--awhile ago..." 

He turned her hand over in his and looked at the palm. He noted the crescent shaped gashes and the bloody rims of her fingernails and said nothing. 

"Let's go sit down." 

"I...I, uh...I have dinner plans?" 

"With us, yes." 

"I'm sorry." 

"It's alright. You're alright, too. Let's go wash your hand." 

He took her lightly by the hand and led her through the halls of U.A. and to the dorm kitchen. He washed her hand in warm water with gentle soap and wrapped it with gauze while she sat and stared at the wall. She never heard Toshinori slip to the side and warn Izuku not to take her silence personally and not to press her for conversation. When she finally came to, Toshinori was setting a plate of food down in front of her and Izuku was pouring a cup of tea for her. 

"Hiroshima style okonomiyaki." 

'It smells lovely," Sakura replied. 

She ate and said nothing. Izuku and Toshinori chatted freely about work and school and the young man's mother. And when dinner was over, Toshinori dismissed his student and set about washing the dishes. 

"Thank you. For dinner." 

"You're quite welcome. Can I get you some more tea?" 

"No, thank you." 

"Go sit down on the couch. It'll be more comfortable. Izuku put on Samurai Gourmet." 

She did so automatically without a thought to it and found Izuku sleeping in a small ball on the couch. He exhaled softly, his deep green hair tousled on the pillow, and Sakura turned away from him. She stepped back into the kitchen. 

Toshinori turned to her, the soap suds from the dishes still clinging to his arms. 

Sakura stepped forward and buried her face against his emaciated chest. 

"Sakura-san?" 

The words died in her throat:  _Help me._

Toshinori pulled his arms up around her to muffle her sobs. 

"It'll be okay. I'm here now." 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
